Pay attention

Durham is a quiet place in the summer. UNH does offer some summer classes, but I imagine the flavor of life is much changed from when the full school is in session.

I went to a small celtic pub around 7 last night. It was empty. Me and the bartender. Sometimes that is a good thing - bartenders in empty pubs can be good conversation! But she was so intent on the movie she had playing on the bar TV that it simply wasn't to be. The conversation would have to start something like: "Excuse me, I know that Tommy Lee Jones is just about to shoot at the bad guys . . . .but wouldn't you rather talk with me about God and church and faith???" Nope . . . It would have been silly to have even tried. I ate a few of their 25 cent wings, waiting in vain for anyone else to come in, paid my bill and headed on down the street.

Libby's Bar and Grill seemed to be more active, so that's where I headed next. It seemed to be a wider cross section of community life gathered there than would ever dream of hanging out at that first pub. I took a seat at the bar, ordered my Guinness, and scanned the menu. Greens. I needed greens. Got my order in for a chicken caesar and settled in.

A young man sits down, orders a beer and lets out a tired sounding sigh. "Long day?" I ask.

He's an MBA student - going part time and working still. Had just gotten out of class. "At least this pace is only for a few years," was his comment. There seems to be no room in his life to add another obligation, another thing to put on his calendar. No room for church. No room to pay attention to any of that.

An older man sits down on the other side of me. (Older is all relative here in a college town, although he did seem to be a little older than I am.) Someone else spots him and comes over to greet him. It ends up that neither live here . . . And both just happened to be here at the same time. They share family news. "My daughter is getting married! She wanted to get married in June, but couldn't get on the church calendar until August. I guess that's what happens in such a large church."

I see my opening, and charge right in.

"What church is that? Is it around here?" (This is where I learn that neither man is from here.) The church in question has 3800 members, and I assume it must be Roman Catholic.

I'm wrong. It's Lutheran - in Minnesota.

They ask about my church affiliation, and we talk a bit about the Episcopal church. Man from Minnesota has a nephew who just became an Episcopal priest. "I think he's probably the tallest priest in the country!" His nephew is 6'7". I tell him about a priest I know who is taller. He's going to get his nephew in touch with Peter. He enjoyed getting that contact, and then returned to his table where he had been eating with his wife.

The man at the bar continued the conversaton with me. He teaches Greek and Latin at a Boston high school, and is here in Durham for a conference of the American Classical League.

He taught college for a number of years, and then moved to the high school ages, and truly loves it. I listened to him talk about opening up this other world to these students through the gift of Greek.

He has students who come from so many difficult family situations. Many are being raised by their grandparents. Or a neighbor. He is obviously in pain for these students, and the challenges of their lives.

He told a story about one student who got hurt somehow and ended up on crutches. This teacher set it up with the student to meet him in the morning to borrow his elevator key for the day, so the student wouldn't have to navigate the stairs. Then the student would meet him at the end of each day to return the key.

The first day he was off the crutches, he still went and met his teacher in the morning. Not for the key, but to thank him. He threw a huge hug around the teacher, and almost cried his thanks.

The teacher was at first totally baffled by the response. He really hadn't done much at all, he felt. The response of the student seemd so out of proportion to the event. But as he thought about it, he realized that this was a student who very possibly didn't have anyone in his life simply paying attention. And here was someone who had paid attention to his needs, and stepped forward with a small gift to meet that need, and then stayed consistent in the giving.

He talked about what he has learned through his years of teaching, and the most important thing of all has simply been to pay attention. To respect the students enough to pay attention.

It continues to be the almost constant refrain of this time I've been gifted with: listen. Pay attention. Get out of myself and pay attention and listen to each one in front of me.

This teacher loves his job. Loves the opportunity to pay attention to these students and in turn, have them pay attention to what he is so passionate about: the beauty and world that the Greek language opens up for him.

I think about how Jesus paid attention to each one in front of him. Nicodemus and his questions. Zaccheus and his curiosity. The Samaritan woman at the well, and her hunger to be known.

And we are, each one of us, called to follow as disciples. Learning to pay attention.

Love God . . . Love your neighbor. You've got to pay attention in order to love. Love is such a powerful verb. But it doesn't have to be big powerful acts. Love can be done by simply paying attention.

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Other stuff I'm mulling over from those conversations:
The young man with 'no time' for church, and another young man I know who has commented to me about what a deep deep need it is in his life to find those 'set aside' times and places. One who has discovered the real gift that Sabbath is, and how extra important it is in the midst of a hectic young life. How do we help those who have already decided that there simply isn't time?

And with the teacher: these are students who are 'forced' to go to school. And he is working within that to open up in them a passion for learning. How does this relate to 'forcing' our kids to go to church? How does it become sharing our own passion for journeying with God and with a community of faith, instead of it becoming "cramming it down their throats." Even this teacher talked about his own daughter and her reaction to church being one of it having been 'shoved down her throat'. (Interesting to hear those exact words come from him.) He and his wife were the first couple that the then Cardinal of the Archdiocese of Boston allowed to be married by a priest and a Congregational minister with the service being held at the congregational church (in the late 60s) and they tried to raise their one child with a foot in each.
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Conversation going on at the table next to me this morning and I sit here in this coffee shop and write: 6 guys, all in their work uniforms, on some kind of a coffee break . . . "Yeah, life is tough (older man to young 20-something). But church is a whole lot cheaper than drugs."
Evangelism going on in the work crew. Simple sharing.
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I got my book blurb submitted yesterday. Me! Writing something in 25-50 words. Ha! I'm taking it out on you all today by writing lots and lots.